


I'm Only Yanking Your Chain

by SpiffySpifferson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Abduction, Age Play, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Associated Works, Bondage, Captivity, Degradation, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Foreplay, Fucking, Fucking Machines, Furry, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Imprisonment, Joker - Freeform, Jokersexual, JokerxReader, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Light Sadism, M/M, Masochism, Oral Sex, POV Joker (DCU), Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sequel, Seriously it's pretty much just smut, Sex Toys, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Straight Sex, Violence, again maybe, dc, dcu - Freeform, help me be better, it's possible, noncon, showtunes, well maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14524098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiffySpifferson/pseuds/SpiffySpifferson
Summary: Here we go again,  abducted and forced to be a Babe in Joker's Toyland.You try to do what the Crimson-mouthed Clown tells you to,  but can you maintain your obedience?What happens when you're not the only kid on the playground?(Follows:You've Got To Be Joking)





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all who take the time to read and comment!  
> You're pretty cool, you know that?
> 
> This is the intro. The smutty stuff will be coming soon.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (I hope the title change doesn't confuse)

PART I:  Setting the Stage

♤♡◇♧

“I spy with my little eye…”  he murmurs as he peers over the roof’s ledge.  His nose, ears, and cheeks are kissed the faintest pink by the crisp night air.  A slow smile stretches his ruby mouth, breath steaming from his parted lips. His eyes gain a glint of mischief.

Joker is pleased for the first time in weeks.  Successful surprises (and Gotham _loves_ his surprises!)  take planning, hard work, and pacing. This time it’s only halfway through the tedious parts and he's already short on patience.  Isn't it about time he threw himself a party for all of his hard work? A tiny break? A small treat? A little _playtime_?  That's where you come in.

He chuckles to himself as his eyes track your movement on the street below.  J is positioned on a strategically chosen rooftop. He knows where you're headed and which streets you'll take to get there.  It's where you always end up weekday evenings. He knows your habits help you feel safe. They help you cope with the damage he did to you.  

“how long has it been?” he muses to himself,  tapping his chin thoughtfully. After a tick he shrugs the question off and his gaze returns to you.  What does it matter? Joker remembers it clear as day and he knows that, despite all of the medicines and therapies and treatments,  you do too.

He knows that you have been undone.  He’s seen you laughing into the night.  He knows you absently stroke the scar on your face when you feel anxious.  He knows that sometimes you sense him when he's nearby and he’s seen you struggle to stop your lips from twitching into a smile as your eyes search the shadows for him.  

Joker _knows_ he owns you whether you realize it or not.

J’s fingertips tap together in silent, excited applause as you turn the corner.  On this street the lamps become more widely spaced along the sidewalk. The dark is inkier here,  the echoes more defined. Perfect for a rousing game of hide and seek. He smoothly dances to the the fire escape that you've just walked past.  Joker glides soundlessly down the metal stairs, taking care to contain his giggles as he goes. His descent is careful, for he is watching you closely.  He's waiting for you to notice him. He's waiting for the chase.

J indulges in a triumphant grin when,  almost imperceptibly, your footsteps slow,  shoulders tense. Your head cocks ever so slightly,  and your fingers raise gingerly to your face. Your hackles are up.  You can feel him. He's near. Adrenaline starts to sharpen your senses.  Trying to discern where he may be, your eyes scan the road and the alleys as you pass and you become more obviously defensive.  A can of pepper spray is withdrawn from your pocket, held in a shaking hand.

Joker lets his feet gain weight as he descends, stepping just heavily enough to make the steel steps sigh beneath him.  His landing is light upon the pavement and his stride towards you is swift.

You freeze momentarily and then,  without so much as a backwards glance,  you _run_.

As you flee down the street the world begins to blur.  Tears fill your eyes. They sting almost as much as the air that whips your face as you gain speed.  You don't think you can outpace him. ‘shake it off,’ you tell yourself, ‘can't lament that now. Just fucking run!’  

The buildings pass by you rapidly and you pray that someone -anyone!- will see you being chased and call the authorities.  It's unlikely. If they see who is chasing you, you'll never get help. Joker is an expert. He can find these households susceptible to bribery.  If not, he can find secrets for blackmail and won't hesitate to kill an entire family to make a point. He won't let an offense against him go unpunished. Those with any sense in their head dare not cross him.

Breathy cackling follows behind you and your thoughts.

The aching pressure in your chest jumps to your throat as you realize the possibility that he has had this street specifically put under his control just for this game of cat and mouse.  After covering several blocks your feet start to slap heavily against the pavement and your breath becomes short. Limbs heavy, you are horrified to find that you're slowing.

Joker's behind you and you can hear him gaining ground.   His scent drifts to your nose. His breathing becomes audible.  He's so close.

Chest burning,  knees giving way,  your running becomes more like a clumsily staggered display of inertia.  Your toes catch on a crack in the sidewalk and you brace yourself for impact against the rapidly approaching cement.  Just as you move to raise your arm protectively to your face, Joker catches your arm and yanks you back to your feet.  

A gasp catches in your throat as you're brought upright and face to face with the grinning menace.  His eyes bore into your very soul and goosebumps break out on your skin. Joker's sinister laughter starts to bubble in his chest as he wraps his arm around you in a vice-like hold.  His other hand reaches up to stroke your cheek. The sight of his long fingers snaps you back from the terrified trance you were falling into. Your arm shoots up. With a wordless shout and a quick disarming movement you manage to free yourself from his grasp.  In a bout of confidence you aim the pepper spray directly at his face. Joker's eyes narrow and an inquisitive eyebrow raises ever so slightly. His smile dares you to press the button. The spark of victory never leaves his eyes.

As the seconds pass the wind in your sails dissipates.  Your fingers loosen along with your resolve. The pepper spray slips from your grasp.  

It is with utter dismay that you to turn to run again.

As you leave him behind, Joker shouts gleefully after you,  “Just because you have a trick up your sleeve doesn't mean you're full of any REAL surprises,  my little jack-in-the-box!” HooHooHooHEEHEEHEEHAHAHhahahaha! It sounds like he's not even chasing you.

Turning to look behind you proves an unfortunate decision as you sprint headlong into a man roughly the size of a great ape and twice as solid. The air is immediately knocked from your lungs.  His enormous arms close around you, pinning yours. You scream and kick even though you know it is futile. Two other thugs approach, one spins you into a choke hold while the other begins to wrap your wrists in duct tape.  The brute is not gentle, the tape is entirely too tight, and the adhesive pulls at the hairs beneath it.

A rhythmic click-clack of fine dress shoes sounds against the street accompanied by giggles and muttered promises of untold violence.

“come on,  boys. Bag up the trash and let's go home.  I have a toy box to sort out.”

With that, pressure on your artery increases and you are unconscious within seconds.

 

♤♡◇♧

 

Your eyes snap open.  There is a throbbing ache in your temples but otherwise you appear  unharmed. Bewildered, you find you can move freely. No rope, no leather,  no chains. As you pat yourself down you discover you've been dressed in a white sailor uniform with broad lavender trim,   complete with hat, knee high socks and saddle shoes. You pull at the fabric with unsettled dread as you start to survey your surroundings.  

The floor on which you lay is soft and it has a little bounce to it when you press it with your fingertips.  It is brightly colored foam that links like puzzle pieces over the entire floor.

The perimeter is once again obscured by spotlights albeit dimmer ones than last time.  Beyond them lies darkness. Glancing upwards you are loathe to see string lights casting a soft warm glow that doesn't quite pierce the darkness above.

They float high above a tough corded net.  The net hangs like a large wide hammock but you can't see where its secured.  It's a curious sight because its mundane, utilitarian look doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the decor.  

Back at ground level,  you feel as though you've been dropped into a warped playpen.  Bright packages wrapped in polka dots and stripes are tossed haphazardly about the room,  their sizes ranging dramatically. The largest parcel stands nearly as tall as you. You distance yourself from it when you think you hear a faint scratching coming from inside.  A few feet away stands an adult sized rocking horse that's been wrapped in pink leather. Action figures and ceramic dolls sit at awkward angles, painted smiles frozen on their faces.  

At the far end of the room stands a giant bullseye.  Nausea takes hold when you see it. Your chest constricts and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.  Dizziness threatens to topple you over. You can feel your mind pulling away from your body, plunging from the present and into the sordid past*.

Somehow,  with a deep steadying breath and a few repeated words,  you manage to rip your eyes away from the table of torture.  Instead you take time to ponder a variety of mutilated plush creatures that watch you with glassy eyes and stitched limbs.  One more shaky breath recenters your mind, your heart slows, and you stand up continuing to take it all in.

A life sized music box ballerina spins lazily upon her platform.  Her limbs are bent at odd angles, bound with tape and cuffs. An orange blindfold and ball gag are tied to her face.  A matching posture collar constricts her neck while a belt of cruel looking metal instruments encircles her hips.

Near the edge of it all,  in the perfect position to observe the entire space, is an ostentatious mahogany throne upholstered in rich purple,  gold, and green checkered velvet.

On the opposite end of the scene Joker sits at a long metal work bench,  humming to himself.

He tinkers with multi colored wires that spill like entrails from the belly of a small brown teddy bear.  There is an array of music boxes and toys and props strewn over the tabletop like some sort of twisted Santa’s workshop.

Emerald eyes flicker to your movement but he only pauses for a second before resuming his task.  Your eyes dart about in search of an exit. Deja vu tugs at you. Making a run for it would be pointless, no doubt.  It didn't do you any good on streets you knew so why would it work in foreign territory? No, there's no running from this man.  You just have to keep yourself alive long enough for him to release you again. IF he releases you again.

Rooted where you stand,  all you can do is fidget with the hem of your shirt and watch him with wide eyes.

Joker works efficiently.  Slender fingers deftly cut and twist the tiny cords and carefully solder them together.  Detonation parts are gingerly fabricated. A pink tongue peeks from a scarlet mouth, licking at the corners in concentration.  With patience and care he assembles his device. Soon he tucks the bomb into a neat package, sewing it into the plushie.

Now that the chore is complete,  J swivels his chair around to face you and flashes his signature smile.  Setting down his tools, the homicidal humorist slowly and softly sings a familiar tune.  

“all around the mulberry bush…”

The maniac stands.

“the MONKEY chased the WEASEL…”

He takes a few steps in time with the rhythm of the song.  You want to step back but his gaze holds you like a bear trap.

“the monkey thought t’was ALL in FUN…”

His pace quickens before he stops in front of you.  He playfully begins rocking on his heels with his hands behind his back, lips twisted into a devilish grin.

A slow annoyed look overtakes his features and his eyes roll to the ceiling and back.  He raises his eyebrows and gestures to you. When you take too long to respond his tightly pursed lips fall into a deep scowl and he aggressively hums the last line of the nursery rhyme.

Nodding,  you tentatively open your mouth and manage to sing in the smallest shakiest voice,  

“... pop-”

With a sudden lunge and a booming voice Joker grasps either side of your head and squeezes tight.

“POP GOES THE WEASEL AH HAHA HAHAHAHA aha ahee ahoohoohoohahaheeheehee!”

Joker finishes his outburst of laughter by burying his face in your hair,  one hand cradling the back of your head, the other snaking around your waist to hold you firmly against his body.  When he pulls away his toxic gaze has a gentle undertone somewhere in its depths. He smirks and he lowers his face to yours.  

You want to recoil,  to push him away. Push him away!  Why aren't you pushing him away? His eye contact doesn't break as his painted mouth presses against yours.  He tastes just the way you remember. The sensations that have haunted your dreams for so long rush back. You are paralyzed by him.  His lithe muscles flex and he sighs into your mouth as your lips part to return his kiss.

You give him the kiss he wants so you can survive.  

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

“I thought of you often,” he whispers against your lips.

Then in an instant your bottom lip is caught in his teeth and the taste of metal fills your mouth.

You turn your head violently away with a loud expletive and laughter spills from the Joker in response.  You dab your lip with your free hand, offering a pleading look to your captor when you see blood on your fingertips.  His expression is smug. He smiles and tilts his head this way and that before loosening his grip on you. Joker runs his thumb over your lip and regards you with mischief once again.

“Not feeling much like a fight tonight?  After last time I expected a little more MOXIE but I think your SUBMISSION could still be fun,”  he glances upwards in a exaggerated display of contemplation, “yes… YES indeed…” his eyes roll back to you and they are dark with cruelty.  Your blood runs cold.

The next thing you know he has tossed aside the little hat from your head and his fingers are tangled tightly in your hair.  Joker jerks you up onto your toes. Splitting pain shoots through your scalp and your hands desperately claw at his wrists to take the pressure off.  Joker is gleeful. Fist still tight on your locks, he slaps your hands away, giggling every time you whimper at the pain. He pulls you closer and watches as tears well up in your eyes.  He languidly laps them up as they pour over your cheeks, smacking his lips in appreciation.

“Aw, don’t be so GLUM, Chum!  You’re playing along just fine!  Haven't you wondered why you're not bound this time,”  he purrs, “why you're... LUCID?”

You stifle a whine in the back of your throat.  He grins broadly.

“you see,  my dear, I already KNEW you were not going to fight back.  If you were going to, you would have done so when I POUNCED on you in the Cauldron.”

Peals of laughter fill the air and a chill runs down your spine.

Finally he relinquishes his hold and you tumble to the floor, rubbing your head,  tears still in your eyes. You clumsily crawl backwards as he advances on you again.

With a click of his tongue Joker leaps forward, landing gracefully with shined shoes planted on either side of you.  His face is unreadable as he stares down at you. You look up at him fearfully. Fearful of death. Fearful of pain. Fearful of shame and humiliation.  Fearful of the slow lazy smile that lifts his features, stopping just short of his eyes.

He crouches over you with his weight resting upon his heels.  

Again he tilts your face towards him using the nape of your scalp as leverage. 

He smiles,  gesturing broadly between the two of you,   “i want YOU to be my raggedy Ann and Andy. My ACTION figure.  My WIND UP doll. You will do WHAT I want, WHEN I want. Passive is a good look on a TOY such as yourself!  Now show me how VALUABLE a collectible you REALLY are and why I should keep you in my toy box.”

Gently he caresses your cheek and runs his thumb over the raised skin of your scar before stroking your neck down to your collar.  His hands wander over your costume’s material, slowly, as though he's counting the threads. He stares with eyes that are hooded and unblinking.

He's watching for your reactions.

J’s digits glide gracefully over your shoulder and dip in between the uniform and your collar bone.  His skin is cold and you tense at his touch. With a broad smile and a dark chuckle J guides you down onto your back.  You won't admit it but you would have relaxed to the floor even without his firm hands directing you. Flexing fingers twist your locks as the other hand glides under your shirt.  He slides his body down next to you, wrapping one long leg around yours. You jump a little at his proximity, your breath catches. Piercing green eyes devour your every response.

The man touches you as though he has had a lifelong knowledge of you.  His every caress feels electric. His hand floats over your torso with perfect pressure.  He's not in a rush. He wants you ready. Slowly Joker lowers his forehead to yours and lets his gaze fall to the bottom hem of your shirt.  Breathy giggles wash over you as he lifts it all the way up revealing the sensitive contours of your chest. His black tinged nails graze your nipples and he breathes in deeply when you gasp.  Nimble fingers take their time as they dance over your sternum and clavicle, teasing your body to life. His breath becomes heavier as you arch your body to meet his touch. The feel of him pressing harder against you only spurs your gyrations.

If there were a manual for igniting your body’s desires it seems that the Joker has read it cover to cover.  Before long your senses are buzzing with arousal. You meet his eyes with agonized helplessness. It is with shame that you close your lids in pleasure.

How can this be?  How is this despicable murderer able to incite these feelings in you? You've always been sensitive but not like this.  This is immediate, the same burning inferno as last time. Your hips raise. A whimper escapes your lips. Your stomach churns. What your physiology does is not in your control.  It's not your fault. Distract yourself. Comply to survive but don't let your mind betray you.

You must try to shutter him out.

Focus on anything else around you.

Breathe.

Ok.  

You can do this.

Joker’s breath smells sweet like chocolate and mint.  It blows over your face and neck in deep panting puffs.  The delicate hairs on your neck stand on end as you detect nearly inaudible moans that hide behind his chuckling.  They are uttered in appreciation of the flexes in your muscles. He is enjoying this so much.

No,  no, wait.

Don't focus on _him_.

Find something…

The feel of the shoes on your feet.  They're a little too tight. The hard shell leather is painful against your toes,  especially when they curl. The socks itch and dig into your calves. They're thick and you suspect that without them the shoes might fit properly.  How ridiculous you must look. Dressed up like a ceramic figurine.

‘Toy.’  He calls you ‘Toy.’  

You exist for his pleasure.  This outfit makes him happy. It is because he knows how degraded it makes you feel?  Embarrassment and despair start to well up inside your chest.

Your chest.  Joker’s hands are no longer there.  They've moved to your belly, his nails tracing lazy circles around your navel.  They run around to your sides and dig into your skin just enough to make you reflexively wriggle against him.  He nuzzles you and laughs with a little more zeal as he claws you harder. Rewarded with a sharp gasp, arched spine,  and a moaned plea, Joker returns your sound and shifts his weight.

You retreat back into your head but the feel of his silk shirt on your naked skin ushers a new wave of sensation.  Your eyes shoot open as his nails scratch your hips. You curse yourself for your failed concentration. It's beyond you how he can be so commanding without uttering a word.

The Clown is titillated by your gyrations.  If his staggered, panting giggles didn't give him away,  his endowment would. You can feel him growing firm against you.  You can feel the heat he is emitting. Your body heat rises too and you aren't sure if it's from your arousal or your anger.  With increased aggression, Joker takes your wrists in hand and roughly pushes them above your head.

When you scowl he gives you a stern look and presses his palms down upon your arms as though to secure them in place.  Then, with a resolute ‘harumph!’ he parts your knees and takes up residence between them. He appraises you with amusement.

Joker chortles as he leans forward,  letting his hands glide up your body starting at your pelvis and ending at your elbows.  At certain points on his journey he is greeted with the twitches of your body’s feedback.  He hums happily as he pins your body to the floor and grinds subtly against your obviously excited sex.  You hiss, your head turns away. A blast of laugher rings in your ears. Pulling himself upright, he drags his claws all the way down and thrusts to meet your reflexive bucking.

Your legs tremble but you force yourself to remain obediently still for the grinning clown looming over you.

“You'll be better behaved than ever- hands down,”  he jokes and runs a finger along your inner thigh. HEEHEEHEEahhoohooheeheehaHAHA

Lifting your legs to rest on his thighs Joker lowers himself on top of you,  extending his arms over yours and taking firm hold of your wrists once again.  His eyes become dark with the dilation of his pupils. His green brows are arched menacingly.  The news of your fate is unreadable in his expression. What's certain is that you'll have no say in it.

♤♡◇♧


	2. Horsing Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you've taken the reigns doesn't mean you're in control.
> 
> Yes, there's smut this time.

  


Part ii

Horsing around 

  


♤♡♧♧

  


A crimson smirk transfixes hooded eyes.  Lungs breathless. Heart drumming. Body tense with pain and pleasure. Powerless underneath him.  Lustful murmurs fall from panting lips. Touches like an intimate lover lure your body into readiness.  Breathe. Let go for now. Keep him happy. Keep him entertained. Keep yourself alive.

The Clown peers at you from under heavy brows and slowly licks his lips.  His cool hands tighten on your wrists. His index fingers caress your palms.  

His chest rumbles with low chuckles and he presses his pelvis hard against yours.  He notices your stifled sigh.

“my My MY, Toy!  So receptive! So sensitive!   Mmm it's good to see nothing has changed.  What wonderful noises you will make when you see what I have for you!  And as for me,” Joker glances down his body, “I am positively BRIMMING with anticipation!  Heh heh heh.”

He pulls your wrists skyward and lifts you up onto his lap,  his legs still kneeling on the foam floor. With grace Joker stands whilst holding you tight,  keeping you wrapped around him. By the look of him he shouldn't be this strong. A startled noise escapes you as you are lifted.  You hate yourself for it. His grin mocks you before he stands you upright. Your hands cover a damp stain on your uniform, embarrassed that you're not certain to whom it belongs.

The Clown Prince strolls away and when he reaches his throne he doesn't  _ sit _ so much as he  _ drapes _ himself over it,  leaning to the side,  one slender leg slung lazily over its arm.  He's a sight to be seen. The warm lights play off of his skin and almost make his complexion seem healthy,  but only almost. The light does manage to soften the sharp angles of his face a bit. Red lipstick exaggerates the proportions of his already broad,  ever-grinning mouth.

The lush linen suit somehow complements the checkered fabric upon which he sits and its rich purple color emphasizes the green glow of his irises. The carved wood frame has gold leaf accents and it plays upon his hair like the hint of a royal crown.  His unconventional beauty strikes you, not for the first time.

He twirls his curls, grinning knowingly while you stare half-lidded.

“SING for me,”  he abruptly breaks the silence.

You jerk out of your thoughts and stare. 

Joker smiles, amused at your distraction. He repeats the instruction.  Your throat goes dry.

“Something snappy.  Something interesting.  Something ME,” he gestures to himself in a sweeping motion from head to toe.

You think for a few minutes while your fingers tug at your hem and your eyes dart around the room.  Something him. Something that is him. Something…

With a small snap of your fingers you straighten out your shoulders.

Joker,  whose foot had been tapping from boredom,  brings his head higher, unintentionally mirroring your action. 

“Well?  WHAT have you got for me?  ENTERTAIN ME, Toy! Heh heh heh heeheeheehee”  his hands fling outward dramatically.

There are a couple of false starts while you find the melody and then…

_ “... Every morning _

_ every evening...” _

J’s face is the picture of surprise when he recognizes the tune and he swings himself into an upright position,  suddenly riveted. You falter at this but only for a moment. 

His stunned expression evolves into a curious smile as you continue.  His eyes bore into you with interest. 

__   
_ “...Ain't we got fun? _ _   
_ _ Not much money _

_ Oh, but honey _ __   
_ Ain't we got fun? _ __   
_ The rent's unpaid dear _ __   
_ We haven't a bus  _ __   
_ But smiles were made dear _ _   
_ _ For people like us…” _

Before long Joker is joyfully kicking his legs and pretending to conduct an accompanying orchestra.  Leaping to his feet he starts to dance around, singing along with you, picking up the lyrics when they escape your memory.  During his waltz he does a spin on the ballerina’s box before removing the blindfold that adorns her. J twirls towards you and,  when your voice stumbles at his approach, does a giggling pirouette before disappearing behind you. You pretend you don't flinch when he lowers the blindfold over your head.  

_ “...Landlords mad and getting madder _ __   
_ Ain't we got fun? _ __   
_ Times are bad and getting badder _ _   
_ _ Still we have fun _

_ There's nothing surer _

_ The rich get richer and the poor get poorer  _

_ In the meantime In-between time _

_ Ain't we got fun…” _

You can hear the murderous maniac’s muffled footsteps scuffling around the room.  Accompanied are the sound of objects being knocked over and gathered and rearranged.  Your head turns with the sound of his movements in an attempt to keep track of his whereabouts.  Even though there is a flurry of activity, a heavy presence feels like it's pressing towards you.

Shake off the feeling.  Keep going.

_ “...Night or daytime _

_ it's all playtime _ _   
_ __ Ain't. We. Got. Fun…!”

He shouts the last lines in unison and with rousing, albeit solo, applause.  The corners of your mouth turn upwards at his praise. J's happy. Keep him happy.  He slides in front of you and lowers his lips to your ear, letting his breath tickle your skin before he speaks.

“That was enchanting!”  his voice is silky as he coos in your ear,  “I cannot tell you how PLEASED you should be right now,  my little Toy.” he pauses to inhale your scent. 

He takes a step back and even though you are blinded you can feel Joker’s contemplation in the silence.   You imagine his furrowed brow as he stands tall before you, one hand at his chin and the other at his hip.  You're amused when you hear the dull tap-tap-tap of Joker’s toe.

With a triumphant noise and the scrape of his soles against the rubberized floor,  he plops down in his chair and sighs. The hint of his sigh brushes against your neck.  The impossibility of this doesn't escape you.

“You know,  I have to remind myself that I needn’t rush.  You're not in a hurry, are you?” your head does a timid little shake,  “No, of course not! Nor should I be! This is MY recess so I'm going to enjoy my playground as. long. as. I. like. Besides, if need be you can stay HERE while I work,  much like before!”

His declaration is made with the tone of a person that's doing you a favor.  As though he's extending a kindness. He might keep you longer this time. Nothing but his toy.

You swear you hear a quick quiet shuffle behind you.

“SO,”  Joker continues,  clapping his hands once,  rubbing his palms together, “before we get down to BRASS TACKS I would like to conquer the possible HURDLE of disobedience.”  There sounds the soft rustle of fabric as he shifts in his seat.

“You have been so VERY well behaved so far BUT I need you to know that…”  his voice goes cold, “IF you choose to MISbehave there WILL be consequences.”

You hear the sound of slapped flesh as Joker facepalms, with and a laugh packed with false embarrassment.

“wait wait I forgot.  You're not NEW here! HAHA-HA!... -ahem- what IS new here is if you don't play well with ME... you'll have to play well with OTHERS!”

Chills run down your spine and your entire body goes tense when raspy chuckles come from behind you.  And to the sides of you. And, abruptly, to the front of you.

“My dear plaything,  my lovely TOY, I invite you to meet ‘Others’.” AhooHooHooheeHeeHeeHahaHaHooHooHooHEEHEE

The blindfold is ripped from your face and you are confronted with dead plastic eyes which are set into a matted face that vaguely resembles a cat.  The fur costume smells of dust and baby powder along with the faint acrid stench of formaldehyde. You slowly look to your left and right and find two more mascots staring at you with immobile faces.  One seems to be a squirrel whose dread locked coat is a faded blue hue.

Opposite him stands a tall dingy pirate whose expression and proportions are grossly exaggerated.  His foam teeth are bared in a lewd smile. You don't turn around but a fleeting glance over your shoulder confirms a fourth person in another fuzzy getup,  this one a bright garish pink.

Heart racing,  you turn your attention back to Joker,  looking past the towering tabby in front of you.  The Clown swings his foot merrily, sadistically smiling down at you.

“heeheehee Cat got your tongue? HOOHOOHOO!

Well, if you have nothing to say,  I think it is high time we get this party into full swing!” he chuckles and strokes his groin,  “now READYSETGO!”

Abruptly you are pounced upon from all angles.  Your limbs are forced in all directions as the costumed lackeys lift you.  You try to pull your arms and legs inward but you have neither the strength not the leverage to do so successfully. 

After you cease your instinctual struggling you hear Joker heave a sigh from his perch as he dismounts it again.  

“We surprised you,  so you're not in trouble for fighting back… YET.  Remember to play NICELY, Toy of mine.”

With one swift motion,  the manic funster brandishes his knife and splits the seam in the crotch of your uniform.  Grasping either side, he pulls the hole open to expose your aching arousal. The air cools you and makes your muscles flex.

He hisses his approval,  wetting one fingertip with the moisture at your opening just to watch you heat up.

He instructs his goons to turn you around to see your surprise.  When they do you find that the huge rocking horse has been relocated.  Its wooden body stands at least 7 feet tall, its pink leather torso is plush and shined.  You are lifted onto its back and you reel for a moment at the height. Your ankles are roughly jerked into the stirrups and strapped tightly inside of them.  You are allowed but a few inches of movement in your knees. Just enough, you suppose, to control your balance. Quickly gripping the reins, you look down at Joker for instruction. 

He is not much shorter than the horse’s shoulder and it occurs to you that he is within range of a quick kick to the face. Then you look around at the four menaces at his sides and banish the thought.

One of them brings him a ladder and he climbs it to meet you eye to eye.  Leaning against its frame leisurely, his grin extends to his vivid eyes which is somehow more terrifying.  At least he is happy. 

Keep him happy.

“SO,”  he begins whiles petting the sleek neck of the beast,  “I think you'll find this BEAUTY to your liking. Be careful,  though, because, while horses are usually the ones being broken,  this could easily go the other way around.”

He presses his hand against the horse’s painted mane and pushes it forwards.  Instantly you feel something slide between your legs. Caught off guard, you shift to see what just touched you.

The seat underneath you has a broad gap running along the length of it.  There's nothing visible as the horse rocks backwards but when it leans forward a sizable dildo thrusts skyward.  You recoil as though you've been bitten by it and Joker laughs obnoxiously in your face.

“Fun, amirite? HAHAHAHAHA!” He grasps your thigh and grabs your chin to bring your eyes to his.

“You're going to bring yourself to orgasm.  

Not me. 

Not them.  

YOU.

I might join in.  

I might not.

Either way,  you're going to ride this horse until your juices FLOW from you and I am going to WATCH every second of it… so I don't suggest you make it a dull show.” hahaHAHAHAHAHEEHEEHee

He hands you a bottle of lubricant after shooing his furry friends into the darkness. 

“we'll have no need for them now, will we, doll?” he states. You have the distinct feeling they may still be watching anyway.

Joker’s palm remains on your thigh massaging your skin as your slick fingers prepare yourself for penetration.  His other hand steadies the beast so as to keep the sex toy contained until you are ready for it. Staring at the void upon which you sit you absently stroke yourself,  moving the blood to your genitals again. It is going to hurt but it won't hurt as much if you're stimulated. That might help get this over with, too. 

It is a small surprise to find that the half hooded lust in your eyes is mirrored when you look back up to J.  His smirk is small, the bottom lip half hidden by the teeth biting it. You imagine you can feel the heat of his eyes as they rove lazily over your body. Your hand moves a fraction faster.

Joker brings the horse forward slowly and you adjust your position.  He can read the apprehension on your face. It's obvious he thinks it delicious.  You flinch when the tapered tip of the firm dong rises and meets your flesh. J stops the movement and lets it rest at your anus.  You lock eyes with him inquisitively. He wordlessly waits until you nod with reluctant consent. Then, with teeth bared triumphantly,  he inches it inside you.

Though the girth increases gradually you quickly feel yourself stretching beyond your comfort level.  Your eyes have not left Joker’s, which is not to say the same for him. He alternates between watching your face and watching the slow insertion of the massive toy as he pushes it into your ass.  Time seems to crawl and you can no longer track how much dildo might be occupying your body. All you know is you feel full and slightly nauseous. 

Joker’s currently grinning lasciviously as your skin is pulled taut over the increasing diameter. You rock your hips upwards to give him a better view.  A lusty exhale escapes the Joker before he can catch it. His eyes narrow dangerously as he looks up at your flushed face before resuming his ogling.

When your tight entrance starts to sting you grab the hand on your thigh and squeak out a plea.

The Joker glares at you for breaking his enjoyment and spitefully lowers you a little further,  only stopping when you shout in pain.

At the pause you try to read his face which is fixed in an enigmatic smile as usual.  Slowly you add more lube and stroke yourself up and down, up and down- more firmly than before- to distract from the ache. Your sex pulses under your hand as his intense gaze consumes you.  You've never been so completely devoured before in your life. His arousal colors his cheeks faintly as he pulls you closer to him, raising the dildo further. You start to moan as the pain dissipates.  Joker’s eyes shoot up to yours and his hand moves further up your thigh.

“That's it,”  he urges, “you've almost taken it ALL inside your hungry body.  You're almost stuffed full, my little fuckToy. Tell me, how does it FEEL?”

You groan and the words unconsciously tumble breathlessly from your mouth.  You tell him how deep you can feel it, how you feel wide open. You tell him that you feel exposed. Vulnerable.  Left in the wind. That you're afraid you might tear. Or that you can't come. And, with tears in your eyes, you tell him that you may not be able to take much more.  With an evil grin J pulls the horse forward and thrusts the rubber cock inside of you all the way to the base. Your howl of pleasure-pain incites a round of giggles. Despite his impishness he holds the horse steady until you unconsciously grind your hips against it.

Just as you have acclimated to the girth that spreads you open Joker utters a sadistic chuckle and heaves your perch backwards.  You are pitched forward as the horse rears back. The dildo withdrawals to the head and then the full length slams back into you when inertia rocks the horse forward again.  You gasp and stare in surprise at the sudden change of pace while Joker doubles over on his ladder, besides himself with mirth. The force at which you're being fucked is strong, if not fast.  The rocking horse is a great lumbering thing and it's a leisurely ride, unfortunately for you. 

It seems that the hardest part of the ride is when you're rocked as far forward as you can and the stays hit the ground in front of you.  That is when the last few inches suddenly thrust hardest.

Your vaudevillian voyeur makes his descent and mosies backwards towards his throne without taking his viridian eyes off of you.

You avert yours and adjust the reins in your hands, adjusting your feet in the stirrups for leverage.  Closing your eyes and bracing yourself a little better you allow your hand to work at a flurry as you gyrate on your seat.  Your fingers tease your sensitive skin. Your palm strikes the sensation home. The back and forth motion of the equus becomes your own and before long you are rocking your hips to meet the shaft beneath you.

A pleasant ache starts to build in your abdomen. 

Time is without meaning in this moment but you imagine it's not long before lustful moans start to pour from you,  though you can't hear much through the ringing in your ears. That's usually the harbinger of your climax but you hold off.  Vaguely you wonder why you're getting lost like this. Maybe it's because you like it. Maybe it's because you like that it's HIM.  

You push the thoughts away as you masturbate more fervently.  You're dizzy and not actually thinking about much other than the pleasure overtaking your body.  It's simultaneously new and familiar. It hurts but it's divine. The motions work muscles you didn't know existed in ways you didn't know they could.  The feeling of your skin pulled taut over the thick slick prick awakens new nerve endings. The endless glide of the dong in and out of you and the way your tight ass opens to welcome makes you shudder.  The air around you becomes cooler as your body heats up and your nipples stand at attention. Even the pinch of the dry leather against your thighs is driving your lust.

Then rhythm of heavy breathing breaks through the din.  Your lids slowly open and your head rolls to look at him.  The Joker sits with relaxed posture. His eyes are focused on you but they are glazed over.  His fingers are steepled at his smirking mouth. His mouth, you notice, is slightly open. His front teeth are barely visible but you can see the glint of them nonetheless.  His tongue slithers over his bottom lip after he absently nibbles it.

He's enjoying the show.

Your gaze becomes unfocused as your mind lustfully wonders how his mouth might feel on you.  Your hand moves faster and you rock harder. 

Would he be in the mood to have you soft or hard?  How wet would it be? Would he bite? Would he draw blood? Does he suck or lick or both? Would he let you cum?  Would he let you make him cum …?

As you start to become more lost in the quagmire that is your mind,   the ruby lips upon which you are fixated begin to move. There are words you can't hear but they give you goosebumps.  He is speaking to you quietly. So so quietly. The shapes his mouth makes while it formals vowels and consonants sends violent chills through you.  The tingling heat that boils in your loins begins to build, the pressure only growing stronger as you continue to contemplate your captor.

The sound of his musical voice comes into focus and suddenly it's all you can hear.

“mine,”  he croons.

“you are mine”

“i am your pleasure”

“i am your desire”

“i am your end”

“and YOU…”

His pink tongue teases the corner of his mouth and you moan helplessly. 

“YOU are…”

As he stands to approach you, you spy that his cock is pressing so hard against his fly it threatens to break the zipper.  The graceful fingers one one hand comb through his lush hair while the others tighten around his bulge, causing a small spot of precum to seep through the fabric.  

At the sight,  your orgasm unexpectedly shoots through your body with force.  You shudder and buck with it, not slowing down. You prolong it for him as he ambles closer,  rubbing his trousers, coaxing you on. This show is for him and you give him as much as he wants.  You will keep him entertained. You will keep him happy. You ache and you're light headed but you don't stop.  You will fuck yourself raw if he tells you to and you know it. You know because you've known all along. 

You've. known. all. along.  

Ever since he released you the first time. 

You've known that you are naught but his trinket. 

His plaything.   

His bauble. 

His…

  


“Toy.  I am your Toy.”

  


♤♡◇♧

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Song: Ain't We Got Fun by Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney)

**Author's Note:**

> 'I'm Only Yanking Your Chain' will eventually tie in to [ agt's ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agt/pseuds/agt) [ 'Caged Animal' ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701408?view_full_work=true) series. (And I'm tickled pink over it!)


End file.
